Eben Holden, a tale of the north country eBook

for the speaker. Instantly a great uproar began.
It grew louder every step I took. I began to wonder
and then to fear the truth. As I neared the stage
the chairman came forward beckoning to me. I
went to the flight of steps leading up to that higher
level of distinguished citizens and halted, not knowing
just what to do. He came and leaned over and whispered
down at me. I remember he was red in the face
and damp with perspiration.

‘What is your name?’ he enquired.

‘Brower,’ said I in a whisper.

A look of relief came into his face and I am sure
a look of anxiety came into mine. He had taken
the centre of the stage before I could stop him.

‘Lathes and gentlemen,’ said he, ’I
am glad to inform you that General Brower has at last
arrived.

I remembered then there was a General Brower in the
army who was also a power in politics.

In the storm of applause that followed this announcement,
I beckoned him to the edge of the platform again.
I was nearer a condition of mental panic than I have
ever known since that day.

‘I am not General Brower,’ I whispered.

‘What!’ said he in amazement.

‘I am not General Brower,’ I said.

‘Great heavens!’ he whispered, covering
his mouth with his band and looking very thoughtful.
’You’ll have to make a speech, anyway
— there’s no escape.

I could see no way out of it and, after a moment’s
hesitation, ascended the platform took off my overcoat
and made a speech.

Fortunately the issue was one with which I had been
long familiar. I told them how I had been trapped.
The story put the audience in good humour and they
helped me along with very generous applause.
And so began my career in politics which has brought
me more honour than I deserved although I know it has
not been wholly without value to my country.
It enabled me to repay in part the kindness of my
former chief at a time when he was sadly in need of
friends. I remember meeting him in Washington
a day of that exciting campaign of ’72.
I was then in Congress.

‘I thank you for what you have done, Brower,’
said he, ’but I tell you I am licked. I
shall not carry a single state. I am going to
be slaughtered.

He had read his fate and better than he knew.
In politics he was a great prophet.

Chapter 43

The north country lay buried in the snow that Christmastime.
Here and there the steam plough had thrown its furrows,
on either side of the railroad, high above the window
line. The fences were muffled in long ridges
of snow, their stakes showing like pins in a cushion
of white velvet. Some of the small trees on the
edge of the big timber stood overdrifted to their
boughs. I have never seen such a glory of the
morning as when the sun came up, that day we were
nearing home, and lit the splendour of the hills, there
in the land I love. The frosty nap of the snow
glowed far and near with pulsing glints of pale sapphire.